


Once More (With Feeling)

by littlesnowpea



Series: someday this pain will be useful to you [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Domestic Violence, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesnowpea/pseuds/littlesnowpea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In between the end and the beginning, there is light. It's your choice what to do with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More (With Feeling)

**Author's Note:**

> This is Brian's view of Antti's relationship. It's the same time period as How To Fall Apart Gracefully. The non-con/rape is mentioned, not graphically depicted, but I wanted to be safe. Part two of the trilogy.

**_December._**

 

Brian never thought he’s _really_ talk to Antti. Even before he found out the Finn was gay (worst-kept secret on the team) and way, waaay before he found about that Antti and Huet were together (slightly better kept, and by that he meant everyone but Coach knew,) he never thought he’d _really_ have a conversation with him.

It was mostly that Brian tried to convince himself they had nothing in common and Antti probably wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway and _not_ that Brian was disarmed by the big blue eyes. It kind of made him angry- the Finn was very difficult not to like and even when Brian tried to tell himself Antti was disgusting and wrong for doing what he did and being who he was, a small kernal of doubt buried itself into Brian’s brain and wouldn’t let go.

Therefore, when he jogged back to the dressing room that snowy December night for the phone he was sure was sitting right at his locker, he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Half of him instantly and repeatedly began screaming at him, mentally shaking him to _go stop him, stop Huet, help Antti_ and half was in too much shock to move.

_Disgusting, disgusting, wrong_ his father’s voice echoed in Brian’s ear and he agreed, _disgusting_ but somehow what was disgusting ( _disgusting)_ to him wasn’t what he was used to. His stomach didn’t twist violently at the fact that it was Huet and Antti, he didn’t want to throw up because they were both men- his jaw clenched and hot fury raced through him at the fist, the hand that raised over and over again at the terrified Finnish man.

He dimly registered those blue eyes on him, silent pleas written all over Antti’s face, but he was frozen, frozen to the spot before the sickening sound of a fist hitting soft flesh made bile rise in his throat and he turned and fled.

Later, he wished he hadn’t.

\--

“Leave him.”

Brian heard the words leave his lips but he couldn’t quite believe he’d said them until Antti looked up from the food he was making them with a small crease between his eyes.

“What?” Antti asked, voice quiet. He put the spoon down and turned to face the ginger, leaning back against the counter.

“Huet,” Brian elaborated, braver this time, trying hard to force back the red-hot fury that hit him whenever the name was mentioned. “Leave him.”

“I can’t-”

“Antti, _please_ ,” Brian pleaded. He stood and crossed the small kitchen, gently laying a hand on Antti’s. Antti flinched slightly and Brian heard a small groan of disappointment leave the blonde. Antti sighed and glanced up to meet Brian’s eyes, his own hooded, guarded.

“What month is it?” Brian asked, and when Antti gave a noncommittal grunt, Brian continued. “ _Antti_. What month is it?”

“December.” The answer was automatic, emotionless, and Brian contained his frustration.

“How long have you and _Huet_ been together?” Brian pressed the question, grabbing both Antti’s hands gently. Antti sighed in feigned irritation and pressed his forehead to the redhead’s.

“March,” he said finally. “March eighteenth.”

“And how long has he beat you?”

“Brian, he _loves_ me!” the protest was sudden, and Brian saw the careful walls begin to crumble. 

“Antti, how _long_?”

Antti stared at him, lower lip quivering slightly, but the Finn’s self-control won out. A pause before Antti sighed shakily.

“End of September,” he admitted quietly and Brian felt all the air in his lungs leave with a sharp exhale. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he could only stare at the man in front of him, disbelieving. 

“I’m so sorry,” Antti whispered and before Brian knew what he was doing, he pulled the blonde into a fierce embrace. Antti buried his face into Brian’s shoulder and the Canadian blinked back angry tears. 

“Merry Christmas, Antti,” he said into the Finnish man’s ear, but what he really thought was ‘three fucking months.’

\--

**_January._**

 

“ _Mina olen loistava_!”

Antti was on the phone when Brian walked back into his condo. Brian couldn’t see him at first- all he saw were flat, bare feel swinging over the back of the couch, which Brian swatted at as he passed. Antti sent him a glare that was ruined by the smirk on his face and Brian rolled his eyes. He sat the bag of groceries (so that _Antti_ could make them dinner- yeah, whatever, Brian might be getting spoiled, ok) on the kitchen table and tossed his keys there too, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He had a text, which he already knew he’d ignore, so he sat it next to his keys and turned back toward Antti.

The phone glowed and lit up- another message he’d ignore.

**_Where is Antti? Is he there with you? I haven’t heard from him._ **

_“Miksi olet yllattynyt? Olet uskomaton. Tiedat sen_.”

It seemed to Brian that Antti had never sounded happier than when he was speaking his native language. Brian wasn’t an idiot- he knew English was still a struggle to learn and get the hang of, and although he was improving, he could practically feel the comfort and joy coming from Antti when the Finnish left his mouth.

“Sexy,” he mouthed and Antti shot him another glare for that, flipping him off.

“ _Mita_?” he asked into the phone, and laughed. “ _Ei, se on vain Brian. Han on idiootti_.”

“Hey!” Brian protested over Antti’s giggles. “I can understand that much, you know.” Antti ignored him, still smiling.

“ _Olen hanen talo, sen takia,_ ” Antti bit at his knuckle without realizing it, jumping a bit when Brian reached over to tug it out of his mouth. Antti glanced up at him with a small half- smile, and Brian released his hand.

“ _Voi, ei_ ,” Antti’s voice suddenly got very soft and Brian looked up at his face, concerned. “ _Emme saa pitkin._ ”

“ _Joo_ ,” Antti confirmed, and Brian’s eyebrows wrinkled. He wished more than ever he could understand this infernal language. “ _Olemme.......vaittaa_.”

There was a pause and Brian hesitantly laid a hand atop the Finn’s. The blonde rewarded him with a small smile.

“ _Vaittaa_ ,” Antti repeated, and listened to whoever it was again. “ _Kylla. Olen kunnossa, Antero_.”

So that was who he’d been talking to. Brian had wondered why Antti hadn’t talked to the other Finn in awhile- now he began to realize that it might not have quite been Antti’s decision. 

“ _Kylla_ ,” Antti said softly. “ _Lupaan_.”

Antti looked across at Brian, gave the ginger a watery smile, and them spoke again.

“ _En tieda, Antero_ ,” Antti said dejectedly. “ _Tuota, han ei halua minua_.”

“ _Ei_ ,” Antti answered, then- “ _Toinen_.”

“Antero,” Antti sighed, and shrugged half-heartedly. “Cristobal.”

Brian bristled and Antti shoved him away.

“Antero, _en voi_ ,” Antti sounded like he was protesting half-heartedly. “ _Han sanoi ei_.”

“ _Kylla_.”

“ _Mita tarkoitat_?” the question hung heavy in the air, like Antti barely dared to ask it. 

“ _Lupaatko_?” his voice was a whisper now. “Antero, _lupaatko_?”

Brian pretended to not see the single tear that fell freely down Antti’s cheek, and the Finn quickly brushed it away.

“Ok,” Those simple words seemed to mean so much to Antti. His voice was shaky, but he carried on. Brian swallowed thickly and helplessly watched. 

“ _Menen_ ,” Antti said, looking for all the world like he was fighting the urge to run. “ _Nakemiin_.”

“What did Antero say?” Brian questioned his sanity as the question left his mouth and Antti looked up sharply, but to his immense relief, the blonde smiled.

“I’m going to Vancouver,” he shrugged. “Antero is making me and.....he said he’d deal with all of it.”

The unspoken _deal with Cristobal_ was obvious, but for the moment, Brian chose to ignore it.

Antti was spending two whole weeks Cristobal-free and even the Stanley Cup didn’t seem as wonderful as this. 

\--

**_February._**

**_  
_**

“I love you, Antti,” the French voice one locker over made Brian slam his helmet down harder than necessary and want to vomit. Kaner glanced over at him, eyebrow raised, and Brian mouthed _sorry_ although he wasn’t, not really.

Brian forced himself to focus his attention on pulling his pads on, one at a time, methodically. He very determinedly not listening to the conversation between Antti and Huet. “Homicidal” wouldn’t be a good start to this game, after all.  

“I love you, too,” Antti’s voice was small, so small, and defeated, god _fucking_ damnit. Brain’s hands shook with pure rage and now Tazer was noticing, the two exchanging glances full of emotion Brian didn’t have the time or energy to read. All Brian could hear now was the tremor in Antti’s voice and all he could feel was the overwhelming need,want, _desire_ to go punch the smirk off Huet’s face. 

“You better,” Brian had to strain to hear the oath, but when it registered, his entire body trembled and he was knocking his stick over with a loud _crash_ before he could control himself and now even Huet was looking at him oddly, but Brian just stared down at his equipment, barely even noticing the hand Tazer laid on his shoulder.

“Come here, Soupy,” the captain ordered quietly, leading Brian out into the hall. Brian was out of it, his mind back with Antti and that _douchebag_ and he didn’t realize the other man was hugging him at first.

When he did, he started violently and the captain sighed. 

“I’m so sorry, Brian,” the taller man said, eyes locked with Brian’s. Brian stared back, the emotion on the normally serious man’s face throwing him for a loop. 

“For what?” he finally asked, carefully schooling his tone into neutrality. What did Tazer know? He couldn’t know about Antti- right?

“I don’t know how I could’ve missed it,” Tazer sounded incredibly guilty. “I’m so sorry. I know this has to be killing you. I’m so sorry.”

“Tazer-”

“I know it isn’t my fault,” Brian was shocked into silence, confused beyond belief. “But I should’ve paid more attention to this.” The captain gripped Brian’s shoulders tight, eyes wide and some sort of realization swimming within them. 

“Does Lauren know?” Tazer whispered, and Brian felt mounting horror build in his stomach. _How did he find out_ and more importantly, _what would he do about it?_

“Yes,” Brian managed to admit. “And she’s just as horrified as I am.”

“There’s nothing to be horrified about!” Jonathan said fiercely, giving Brian a little shake. “Don’t feel like that, Brian. It’s heartbreaking, yes, but nothing’s wrong about it.”

Brain stared.

“What are you talking about?” he asked slowly, and Tazer blinked.

“You-” he swallowed hard. “You lo-like Nemo. Right?” He sounded uncertain and if Brian wasn’t still infuriated from the exchange in the dressing room, he’d be laughing his ass off.

“No!” Brian corrected quickly. “No! Nothing like that, not at all. It’s- it’s not that at all.”

“Wait,” the Canadian looked incredulous and took a step back from Brian. “Hold on. You _don’t_ like Antti, you know, like that?”

“No, I don’t,” Brian confirmed. “We’re just friends!”

“Ok,” Jonathan said slowly, dropping his hands from Brian’s shoulders. Confusion had replaced the concern in Jonathan’s eyes and now Brian was getting _really_ nervous. “So......why did you look like someone had stolen your puppy and kicked it around in front of you?”

_if there was a perfect analogy, that would be it._

“It’s complicated,” Brian chose to answer instead, looking around for a quick escape route- any escape route. 

“Bullshit,” Tazer sounded sure of that. “Explain, now.”

“It’s not my place to tell,” Brain said quietly, meeting the captain’s eyes. “Otherwise, I would.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Tazer warned.

_Please do_ he wanted to say, but what he really did was nod jerkily.

“Thanks, Tazer,” he said, heart heavy, and walked back into the dressing room, leaving the other man behind in his own thoughts. 

\--

“Call me when you land?”

“Jesus, Brian, you are my mother now?” Antti’s smirk betrayed the insult and he poked the short redhead. “I will.”

Brian nodded, movement jerky and uncoordinated, eyes locked on Antti’s. There were a million questions he wanted to ask, but he forced himself to smile easily over his stress and hug the goalie tight. 

“It will be ok, Brian,” Antti whispered. Brian’s clenching gut screamed otherwise, but he swallowed thickly over the overwhelming need to choke on the noxious taste of fear. 

A soft hand cupped his cheek.

“You will worry yourself into heart attack, “ he said. “I’ll be ok. I’ll be with Antero.”

Brian nodded again and gave Antti a small push. 

“Go,” he said firmly, shutting down his internal protests. “You’ll miss your flight.”

“Bye,” Antti said, hugging him. “See you soon.”

“Bye, Antti,” Brian replied, praying to anyone who’d listen that this bad feeling that was slowly suffocating him was nonsense like Antti said. 

\--

_landed.-_ 4:57 pm sender: Niemi, Antti

_good. you find antero?:_ 5:00 pm sender- Brian C.

_yes. going to dinner with them._ \- 5:13 pm sender: Niemi, Antti

_have fun, call me later._ \- 5:21 pm sender: Brian C.

_ok :)_ \- 5:33 pm sender: Niemi, Antti

\--

_do you know a thomas greiss?_ 8:11 pm sender: Niemi, Antti

\--

“Hello?”

“Um....Antti?” Brian asked, fairly certain that he’d reached the wrong number. The other line’s voice was deeper, older.

“No,” the answer was curt and abrupt. “He is not here.”

_That’s weird, because this is his number._

“Uh, where is he?” Brian was bewildered- what the actual fuck was going on?

“I don’t know,” the other person said in a tone which suggested the exact opposite. “Not able to talk to you.”

The absolute fury in the other voice knocked Brian for a loop.

“ _Pardon_?” he managed finally.

“Look, I have never met you,” the voice snapped in return. “But I’m going to be honest here, with you- I do not like you, not one little bit.

“How-”

“Listen,” the man interrupted, voice harsher and angry. “Antti is like my little brother in every way but blood. Going with that, I do not tolerate him hurt well. Do you understand me? Today, I picked him up from the airport, and he was shy and quiet and not himself. I saw bruises on his arms and he hasn’t talked to me in a long time- I know it’s because of you.”

Brian waited with bated breath. He was pretty sure he knew who this person _thought_ he was and wanted to hear the rest of what he had to say. 

“So even though I do not know you,” the man continued. “If I can ever prove- or I find out that what I think is happening is really happening-”

The threat dropped off momentarily.

“Mr. Huet, if I found out you have hurt Antti in any way, I will make sure a world of hurt is all you have in your future.”

A long silence followed as Brian could only gape and attempt to gather his thoughts. 

“Is this Antero?” Brian managed to ask.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” Brian answered quickly. “I’m not- I’m not Huet. My name is Brian, I’m Antti’s friend.”

Silence.

“This is Antero,” the voice confirmed. “Do you- I mean-”

“It’s fine,” Brian assured. 

“Oh.”

“Did Antti tell you?” Brian asked hesitantly, heart in his throat. “Or did you...”

“Tell me what?” the demand was sharp, wary, and Brian could _feel_ the pain Antero was in.

“I’m sorry,” Brian whispered. “Antero, I’m so sorry. It’s true. What you thought- it’s true.”

“ _Paska._ ”

After that one Finnish word, all the air left Antero’s lungs as quickly and suddenly as if he’d been punched in the gut. 

“I knew it,” and Antero sounded so small, Brian’s heart compressed. “I knew it. He had bruises and he’s not the same Antti. I knew it. He wouldn’t just not call me, he wouldn’t be so quiet, he-”

Antero trailed off, voice strained with the same stress Brian had felt for months. 

“He can’t stay with that man anymore,” when the Finn finally continued, his voice was so low Brian strained to hear. “I know why he is, but.......it has to end. I can see, I can see where Antti is breaking-”

“I know,” Brian interrupted before his own heart shattered with the pain in Antero’s voice. “And I’ve tried to convince him, I swear I have but he-”

“Just won’t listen,” Antero finished for him. He swallowed thickly and Brian could hear the shaky sigh through the phone. “Thank you.”

Brian nodded uselessly, giving the _hold on a second_ sign to Lauren as she walked in the door. 

“Antti is out, I’ll have him call you later,” Antero finished. “Goodbye.”

“Thank you,” Brian replied. “Bye.”

The other man hung up and Brian stared blankly though the screen as Lauren placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

\--

“I have 32 missed calls,” Antti’s voice was nervous, and Brian’s mood, already dangerously low, dipped suddenly. “And 12 voicemails and 42 texts.”

“Don’t fucking answer them,” Brian spat, before softening. “I’m sorry Antti.”

“It’s alright,”  Antti responded, voice light. “What are you doing?”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all!” Brian fake-complained. “What do you think? Nothing!”

Antti laughed and it lit up the night.

He was so much happier, sunnier, sweeter without Huet.

God _damn_ it. 

“You’re not starving, are you?” the concern in Antti’s voice almost passed and Brian snorted.

“I do have Lauren, you know,” Brian grumbled. “She does feed me.”

“Lauren thinks you know how to cook,” Antti corrected. “She needs to learn the truth.”

“No! Then she’d have an excuse to cook, and between her and you, I’d gain so much weight I wouldn’t be able to play.”

“Jealous.”

“Sure,” Brian laughed. “Hey- why’d you ask about Greiss? I didn’t think he knew Antero.”

“He doesn’t,” Antti answered, and suddenly that Finnish voice sounded different, a note changed, the world off it’s axis. “Not well, anyway. he knows Antero’s friends that we saw tonight.”

“Nabby and Jumbo?”

“I guess,” Brian could just see Antti’s wrinkled nose. He couldn’t really understand the whole nickname thing, the affectionate ‘Nemo’ that the Hawks threw at him had to be explained by Brian. Several times. 

“Well?” Brian pushed when it became clear Antti wouldn’t elaborate on his own. “Why did you ask?”

“I wanted to know if you knew him,” Antti said dryly and Brian huffed.

“ _Antti._ ”

“He’s nice.”

“That’s it?” Brian asked disbelievingly. “Come on. You have a whole fan club waiting to find out your answer!”

“You don’t count as a fan club, Brian.”

“Well, there’s also Lauren.”

“Liar!” And Antti was laughing again, beautifully laughing. “Ok, fine. He’s nice! And funny. And I’m going to see him later- what?”

Brain waited as Antti shouted something indistinguishable in Finnish, presumably to Antero. Idly, he picked at his nails before glancing up at the doorframe where Lauren was standing. One eyebrow delicately raised, she made a questioning gesture at the phone and Brian rolled his eyes.

“Um,” and Antti was back. “Um, Cris just called Antero.”

The happiness came to a screeching halt.

“What?”

“I have to go.”

“Antti-”

The line was dead before Brian could continue, and he stared at the phone, dumbfounded.

\--

**_March._**

 

_“Antti, Antti what happened this time, Antti?”_

\--

“Why don’t you write him a letter?” the young woman sitting across from him in the painfully-decorated room asked. Brian glanced up from his legs for the first time all meeting with a blank stare.

“Your friend,” the Blackhawk’s official sports psychologist elaborated, her pen momentarily stilling on the pad of paper on her lap. Brian shifted uncomfortably. “The one you’ve been focusing on so hard and trying to help. Write him a letter.”

Silence.

“I don’t follow,” Brian said slowly. “What would I say?”

“Anything,” she answered easily. “Everything. Whatever you like.”

“But-” Brian wanted to protest, but found himself cut off.

“You don’t have to send it,” she reassured. “Or even let him see it. All you have to do is _release_ , let everything go. All the thoughts you have. They don’t even have to be about him.”

Brian nodded slowly. 

“Alright,” he said, still feeling a little unsure. “Alright.”

\--

Dear Antti,

I feel really stupid writing a letter to you that you are never going to read while you sleep two rows back from me on this plane. I feel worse knowing you’re sleeping on the shoulder of the asshole who is going to be the subject of this letter who doesn’t hesitate to stare me down every chance he gets.

Like now.

Sleep on, Antti.

I feel inadequate more than stupid, though. Did you know that Tazer- sorry, I mean _Jonathan_ , told Coach to make me go to that psychologist the Hawks organization has? I didn’t want to tell you because a) I didn’t want you to worry, b) I didn’t even think it was necessary and therefore didn’t really want to go anyway and c) you’d automatically think it was your fault and it _isn’t_ , Antti, not even kind of. But you’re not going to read this, as previously stated, so I guess no harm in writing down that I went a couple days ago.

That’s actually the reason I’m writing this letter-that-is-not-actually-a-letter. She told me to write to you, to tell you how I really feel, and tell you all the things I can’t tell you to your face, I guess.

I wish you’d leave him, Antti. 

I understand why you’re still back there with him, still with him, still _his,_ but at the same time, I don’t. Not really. I _know_ you know this isn’t right and I _know_ you’re tired of it all, so why. _Why_ , Antti?

I don’t know. I just wish you’d leave him, Antti. Sometimes, I feel completely useless when I see you with him. It’s like watching a movie and knowing that the killer is right there, right behind the door that the main character is about to open, and you’re trying to warn them, trying to tell them about the danger they’re facing, but they just _don’t hear you_. And you scream “NO! DON’T! PLEASE, HE’S THERE! HE’S RIGHT THERE! HE’LL KILL YOU!” but you’re actually helpless to do anything about it.

I’m screaming at the top of my lungs for you, Antti, and you can’t hear me, not one bit. Whenever I see you two, it’s always “ANTTI! NO! HE’S RIGHT THERE, ANTTI, HE’LL KILL YOU THIS TIME!” but you go and open the door anyway. You’re the main character in my own personal horror film, and you can’t hear me warning you about your own personal killer. I wish you could hear me, I wish you’d pause and look around, wish you’d walk the other way, away from the door, away from where the killer is hiding. 

Antti, it’s March. Please, Antti, please- it’s time. 

\--

Dear Antti,

As stupid as this is, I think I’ll do at least one more. You know, it made me feel a lot better, and even though this isn’t about me at all, I’m selfishly holding onto that. Not much makes me feel happy about what’s going on with you anymore, and every time I see your bruises, a part of me dies a bit, I guess. I lose a bit of whatever happiness I had left.

But you, Antti, you lose a lot. There is no more light in your eyes, not like there used to be. There is no more easy smile, no more open emotions, no more endless positivity. There is slowly and steadily no more _you_ Antti, and I can never, _never_ forgive Huet for what he’s doing to you. There is no way I could.

You’re breaking right in front of me, Antti, and I’m trying to catch the pieces, but as I catch them, they just fall faster. When I try and replace one small piece, eight bigger ones collapse around me. It isn’t fair to you, it isn’t fair to me, it isn’t _fair_ what he’s doing, and I _know_ you know that. You’re trying to hold on, but for what? Who are you doing this for, Antti?

You don’t have to be brave anymore, Antti. I’m _here._ I’m always here to help, to hold you up, to be there. You don’t have to be brave.

Antti, I’m here. 

\--

**_Late March._**

 

“I’m gonna kill him, I swear to fucking God, I will take a knife and slit his fucking throat, I will KILL him!”

“Jumbo! Jumbo, what the fuck are ya talking about, eh?” Brian was practically screaming into the receiver, trying to make some sort of sense out of the manic threats and raging, furious _pain_ in his friend’s voice. It wasn’t working very well, and all he got as an answer were loud, explicit curses and blind raging until Brian tried to speak again.

“Jumbo!”

“Give me the phone, yes? You sit down, no! SIT THERE.” a fierce German accent was all Brian could here as the violent oaths of the Canadian were muffled. Then- “Soupy?”

“Yes?” Brian asked, voice a little overly demanding, but he was completely thrown off by the entire conversation. “What the _fuck_ is going on?”

“There has been-ah- bad news,” the German answered after a long sigh. Brian suddenly recognized the voice as Greiss, and his stomach dropped like a falling elevator. The man did not elaborate and Brian swallowed thickly. He had a shitty feeling about this and the nature of the call only made the deep-rooted fear worse.

“What kind of bad news, Greaser?” Brian lowered his voice, casting a wary voice in the direction of the bedroom. No movement or lights so far, though, and for that, he was relieved. 

“About Yevi,” the other man suddenly sounded much older, worried, depressed. “Something happened to him, uh, at the Olympics? And Jumbo just found out it, and he’s furious and everything is going to Hell. I, uh, think he might, uh, actually do something rash?”

“Thomas,” Brian said slowly, voice almost breaking on the name. He felt like vomiting. “What happened in Vancouver?”

“Yevi was, um, attacked?” Greiss’ voice was shaky and oh, holy shit, Brian was definitely going to vomit, _fuck._ “By someone who I guess wasn’t an athlete. Jumbo, um, thinks that Yevi, um, knows who it is.”

“Holy shit.”

“Basically,” Thomas confirmed, and _for the love of everything that is fucking holy,_ Greiss sounded like he was about to cry and Brian felt bile at the back of his throat, and suddenly, he _knew_ what ‘attacked’ really meant, he could _see_ what ‘attacked’ really meant, and _fuck_ he was going to throw up everything and punch the goddamn fucking wall.

“What-” and Brian tried to not let his voice crack, he really did, but it was too late. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” Greiss responded with a soft sigh. “It’s...it’s so complicated and everything is crazy right now. Jumbo needed to tell you, even though you, um, don’t approve, because it is Yevi and Yevi is special, and Jumbo is angry, very angry, not at Yevi.”

“Alright,” Brian said slowly, attempting to force his stomach back into it’s proper place. God damn it. “But, just so you know, it’s different now. I don’t- I’m not- I don’t care. Just tell him- it’s ok with me now.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, suddenly sounding relieved. “Oh. I’ll tell him later. Thank you.”

“Is Yevi-” Breathe. “Is Yevi going to be alright?”

“I don’t know,” The sheer honesty in the voice absolutely broke Brian’s heart and _damnit_ he needed an Antti hug. “Right now, he isn’t. Not even a little bit. But, um. Maybe soon. They’re going to work through it.”

“Who-”

“He refuses to say,” Thomas now sounded angry, and Brian couldn’t blame him. The very idea of what had happened- _rape_ , his mind supplied, and nausea hit him again- made him so entirely furious he wanted to break things. “But I have a pretty good idea who it may have been, and I let it go to Jumbo, so that’s who he’d like to um, hurt.”

“Who?” Brian’s voice was barely a whisper, but he knew the German could hear, he _knew_ it. 

“I’m not for sure-”

“Thomas, _bullshit_ ,” Brian swore. “Who the fuck was it?”

A long sigh.

“I saw um, that French man by the locker rooms,” Thomas finally said lowly. “And we got into it, into um, a fight because he was not supposed to be there, and he’s an ass of a man, called he racist names, um, and stuff. Yeah. And so I told him to leave or I would call, um, security, because he is a _Arschloch_ , and he said something about taking care of something.”

“ _Shit,_ ” Brian could do nothing but swear, run his fingers through his hair, again and again. Shit. “What French man?”

“I don’t-” Greiss’ voice was flat, emotionless. “Your friend? His backup.”

“Huet?”

No response. Brian’s heart leapt into his throat, his stomach dropped to his feet. 

“ _Thomas_ ,” Brian demanded, panicking. “Thomas, was it Cristobal Huet?”

A silence, then a shaky sigh.

“Yes,” he responded, and that was all Brian needed.

\--

**_April._**

 

“Antti?”

“It’s fine, Brian.”

“Don’t lie to me, turn around!” Brian was desperate. He injected a note of pleading into his voice, trying to appeal to Antti’s emotions. As shitty as that sounds, Brian _knew_ that it was one of the few things Antti couldn’t ignore- and Brian couldn’t let the Finn ignore him now. 

“Brian, please,” Antti mumbled, still resolutely staring at his locker. “It’s fine- believe me. It’s fine.”

“Antti-”

Antti shook his head violently, a deep, shuddering breath shaking his whole frame. Brian bit his lip hard, willing the strength into him, and reached out to yank Antti’s arm. He spun the Finn around to face him, and cupped his cheek to steady him. He swallowed over the bile rising in his throat at the momentary look of terror that crossed the other man’s face.

“Antti,” Brian whispered. _Be still, stomach, don’t rebel_. “Antti, Evgeni was raped.”

The second the words left his mouth, he could see the blood drain from his friend’s face and his heart sank with it, but he pressed on, because Antti needed to know, Antti had _the right_ to know and Brian couldn’t help but selfishly hope that this was the final straw for Antti.

“What?” the question was so quiet Brian almost missed it and he had to force himself to restrain from reaching out to support Antti when he began to sway dangerously. Instead, he chanced a glance around before continuing, each word leaving his mouth making him physically sick. 

“At Vancouver, by a non-Olympian. Although, I think you and I both know who it might have been.” The words came out much harsher than he’d meant,  because of the anger he felt at everything that had happened to _his goddamn friends_ because of the French man walking toward them. His blue eyes were wide and seemingly unseeing- Brian wanted nothing more than to scoop him up and hold him tight, protect him from whatever was making the pain cross his face. He just wanted to _fix it_ like he’d been trying to do for so long, _fix it_ and it absolutely killed him that he couldn’t fix this.

“What’s going on, ladies?” _Goddamn_ if that voice didn’t immediately trigger Brian’s immediate punch reaction, and he had to force it down _quick_ before he did something rash. He looked over at Antti, trying to take in every emotion crossing his face- _damn_ it, he just wanted to _fix this too._ Antti blinked once, still staring at nothing,  swaying again and sinking slowly to his bench, one hand covering his mouth. Brian forced himself from reaching out to touch the FInn, to reassure himself of the other’s presence. Instead, he stood up tall, clearing his throat and looking at Huet.

“Friend of his,” he addressed the other, anger making him speak in sharp, clipped tones. “Bad news.” _And you know what it is, too._

“Antti?” _Don’t fucking talk to him goddamnit_ and now Antti trembled and Brian felt murderous. Receiving no answer, Huet tried again, harsher this time. “Antti!” 

Brian wanted nothing more than to throw himself between the two men, wrap his arms around Antti and shield him from this maniac, this asshole, this piece of absolute shit that called himself Antti’s boyfriend, and damn it to hell if anyone thought that was gay. Brian didn’t care. He just wanted to _fix this._

“What’s wrong?”

_Like you fucking care, you stupid bastard._

It was suddenly uncomfortably silent, Brian could tell all eyes in the locker room were trained on them, their teammates giving up the pretense of preoccupation. He would chance a glance around, but suddenly, he only had eyes for Antti, only had eyes for the pain on his face and the way he looked like he was about to vomit. 

When Antti finally spoke again, Brian could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

And God, it looked like the clouds had split and sun rained down on his best friend’s face, it looked like feeing normal for the first time, it looked like- _Jesus_ , it looked like freedom. Brian tore his eyes away from Antti’s face and chanced a glance at Huet.

“What?” And Brian would laugh if the situation wasn’t so serious, because the French man looked a little like he’d suddenly been punched in the face or told he wasn’t even French, so instead, Brian  mustered up the most furious glare he’d ever given, noting with satisfaction how Huet staggered back in pure shock.

“You heard him.” Those were some of the sweetest words to ever leave his mouth, and he smirked.

 The French man blinked and recovered quickly, shooting his cold gaze over at Brian.

“Not you, ginger,” his words held venom. “I was talking to my boyfriend.”

Brian opened his mouth to correct him, but a soft, accented voice beat him to the punch.

“Ex,” Antti said, and Brian turned to him. “Because I am _breaking up with you.”_

Brian felt a little like Christmas had come again, and it was all he could do not to dance as Antti stood and used what _must_ have been every ounce of courage he had to look directly into Huet’s eyes. Huet gaped. _Gaped._

“You’re crazy,” the man seemed at a loss for words, and Brian’s smirk grew wider.

“No,” he spat. “He’s _smart,_ smarter than you, and he wised up.”

Huet looked like he wanted to counter that, a snort leaving him, but Antti suddenly looked tired and interrupted. 

“Please leave now,” his voice was quieter, but his blue eyes never left Huet’s. “I’ll get my things from your house later.”

Huet took a step back, looking around the locker room.  All at once, everyone awkwardly glanced away and busied themselves, determinedly not watching the dispute. The French man ran his hands over his face in disbelief before looking back at Antti.

“Alright,” he conceded, disgust written on his face. He took a step forward and Brian thanked every lucky star that Antti didn’t flinch. “Alright. But you will regret this.”

That almost destroyed Brian’s non-violence resolve, but he reigned it in. That didn’t stop the words that escaped in a low hiss, however, and he balled his hands up into fists.

“Over my dead body,” he swore and, to his infuriation, all he got was a smirk.

“If it comes to that,” Huet threatened, and Brian refused to rise to the oath. Huet let those words hang in the air before turning back to Antti and leaning in close. Antti stood solid, only his eyes revealing the anxiety and anticipation of a hit.

“Bye babe.”

That was it, and finally, _finally,_ Brian reached for Antti as Huet walked away, the Finn slowly sliding to the floor, exhaustion consuming his face.

\--

Brian didn’t have many regrets in life. His mother always taught him to live so that he would always be proud, and he took that to heart as best he could. Looking back, the few regrets he had mostly centered around things related to Antti- he regretted his homophobia, the fact that he walked away instead of stopping the beating that night in December, the fact that didn’t put his foot down sooner- but he regretted nothing more than choosing to step outside for fifteen minuets in mid April.

He wished he’d at least locked the back door.

Brian sat on the edge of the bed. The blonde Finnish man was sound asleep, and the mere sound of his breathing was enough to calm, to ground, to center Brian. He reached out and touched anyway, smoothed his hand over still-damp hair, gently traced the bruising imprints of a hand, straightened a blanket. He had to be sure, he _had_ to, because if he didn’t, he’d freak out again. He already couldn’t close his eyes to sleep- all he saw was the scene he’d found in the bathroom, the choking sounds of drowning, his fist meeting Huet’s face. 

He could hardly live with himself for allowing this to happen in the first place. Thoughts ran rampant in his mind- _what if he hadn’t gotten there, what if Antti hadn’t fought as hard as he had, what if, what if, what if?_

He shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts, and took in the gentle breathing once more. Swallowing thickly, he glanced over at his friend and squeezed his eyes shut against tears. Blindly reaching out, he found one balled-up hand and ran his thumb over the knuckles.

“Everything’s going to be ok, Antti,” he murmured into the silence. “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> translation of january, where antti and antero are speaking finnish:
> 
> “I’m great!”  
> “Why are you surprised? You’re amazing. You know that.”  
> “What? No, it’s just Brian. He’s an idiot.”  
> “I’m at his house, that’s why.”  
> “Oh, no. We aren’t getting along.”  
> “We’re......arguing.”  
> “Yes, I’m fine, Antero.”  
> “I promise.”  
> “I don’t know, Antero.”  
> “Well, he doesn’t want me to.”  
> “No, the other one.”  
> “Antero, I can’t. He said no.”  
> “What do you mean?”  
> “Do you promise? Antero, do you promise?”  
> “I’ll go. Goodbye.”


End file.
